


Something Precious

by Ariss_Tenoh



Category: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman, xxxHoLic
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 05:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2298500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariss_Tenoh/pseuds/Ariss_Tenoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarrant tries to regain something lost to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Precious

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on March 7th 2006. For Etrangere, who asked for this crossover as a Christmas fic.

The fae swirled madly around the room, dark fae shimmering in black and violet strings while its light counterpart moved in controlled sheets, like morning fog, above it. The man standing in the center of the room concentrated on his Working, the circle drawn with his blood gleamed unnaturally from the wooden floorboards. Inside the circle were two other circles, the space between the three circles was filled with sigils and archaic runes. Normally, he disdained the use of such symbols but this Working was of such complexity that he couldn't maintain all its layers in his mind. Visual aids were necessary in this situation.

 

The man knew he had only one chance to activate his Working. If done incorrectly he risked his life for nothing in return, even if he did it correctly he still might not survive it.

 

It was fortunate that he was on intimate terms with Death.

 

The price of working the fae grew higher with every attempt, but this would be his last.

 

He uttered the words and released his hold on the amassed fae, driving his will into their very nature and Imprinting them with his purpose. Power shone from the circles and their sigils and exploded upwards.

 

The room, the entire house, went up in sorcerous blue flames.

 

A dearly paid Sacrifice........

 

................... Watanuki poured tea for Yuuko. He'd been watching her all morning and she'd taken even longer getting dressed than usual, which meant they'd be having a visitor some time soon and she wanted to look even more witch-like, read: eccentric and mysterious, than normal.

 

There was a sound in her main audience chamber like the air was being sucked towards one spot. He looked at the doors and blinked.

 

The air, the very space, in front of the doors wavered like a desert mirage.

 

That was odd. When visitors arrived, it was always in a bubble or some water-like wave. He caught Yuuko smoothing her heavily embroidered robes, which had a sun motif this time, while her eyes fixed on the heat wave.

 

Which dissolved to reveal a young man, more a boy, kneeling on the floor. The boy stood up and his eyes quickly took in his surroundings before his gaze settled on Yuuko.

 

"You are the Witch?" His voice was smooth and cultured. His tone coolly polite.

 

Watanuki looked at the boy then at Yuuko. Uh-oh, she had That LOOK on her face. The little smile that said she was going to do something nasty and enjoy it.

 

"Yes, I'm the Dimension Witch. Welcome to my shop, Gerald Tarrant." Yuuko's voice had a tone that said she relished the very words she uttered.

 

He looked back at the boy and saw the dark eyes widen in fear before the boy literally Broke.Into.Pieces.

 

Watanuki gulped and shut his eyes.

 

He thought Yuuko had killed their guest but when he opened his eyes he saw a man standing in the boy's place. An older figure that radiated power, just like Yuuko. Gone were the boy's dark skin and dark eyes and dark hair, his small frame disappeared too. This man was in his late twenties or so. He had pale skin as if he'd never been under the sun before, eyes like molten silver, and light brown hair that almost reached his shoulders and dressed in dark blue robes embroidered with silver thread.

 

Watanuki had never thought of any man as "pretty" before, but this man was. Like those paintings of angels in churches. All delicate and androgynous.

 

The man raised his hand and looked at it. Then he looked at Yuuko.

 

"Was that necessary?" His words so carefully polite that Watanuki knew they meant anything but a polite enquiry.

 

Yuuko smiled innocently. "I dislike glamourie. They're so.. dishonest, don't you agree?"

 

The man's eyes narrowed. Cold anger flitted about his features.

 

Okay, there was some meaning in those words that he didn't get but he'd rather not get too closely involved with Yuuko's schemes anyway.

 

"They say you can grant wishes."

 

Yuuko answered that haughty challenge right away. "Yes, anything. For the right price."

 

A moment's silence. Then, "I'm searching for someone. Someone who was taken from me."

 

"I cannot bring back the dead," Yuuko said indifferently.

 

"No one can," the man replied, "but I've heard of spirits, of souls, that wander from one world to another."

 

Yuuko said nothing. Watanuki hoped the man wasn't going to wait for her to say something, she had the patience of a marble statue when she wanted to imitate one.

 

"I could not find him in our world," the man finally admitted. To Watanuki, it seemed like it hurt him to admit his failure.

 

"And you want to find him. Is that it?" Yuuko was closing in on her kill.

 

"They say you can cross the boundaries of Time and Space. That Fate can't stop you if you wished it."

 

Yuuko reclined on her divan, the robes parting and showing her long legs.

 

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Neocount. But not where you wish to be."

 

"Your price?"

 

"For every wish, there must be an equal payment. Something equally precious to what you desire. You understand this, don't you?"

 

The man nodded, for a moment his golden hair obscured his face. "The Law of Sacrifice," he intoned.

 

Yuuko sat up. "Yes, it's almost a universal law existing in every dimension. At least those populated by humans." Her black eyes seemed to grow even blacker as she gazed at her newest supplicant. "You blew up the house you shared with your lover and everything in it. All his possessions and yours. And the memories each item held, the precious memories which were in the house's walls and rooms and furniture gave your Sacrifice power. It was nicely done."

 

But Yuuko wasn't finished. "But love is powerful, isn't it? That too is a universal truth."

 

Watanuki watched the man's face, it showed not a single emotion. Damn, but he was scary. Still, he couldn't be that bad if he was doing all this to find his lover.

 

"Your price." The man's patience had clearly ran thin.

 

"The sword at your waist." Yuuko was never one to hesitate about what she wanted, Watanuki thought wryly. Greedy woman.

 

The man took the sword from his belt, his eyes resting on it for a moment before he presented it to Yuuko.

 

Watanuki wondered how he thought Yuuko was going to get it when the two stood on opposite ends of the room and showed no inclination to approach each other. But then Yuuko raised her hand and the sword glowed and floated to her hands.

 

She held the sword and examined its scabbard. Brown leather, worn but well-cared for. The sword's pommel and guard were gold and had flame-like designs. She rested her hand on the hilt for a moment.. then pulled it out of its sheath.

 

Light poured forth from the blade, its bright rays darting into every dark corner of the vast chamber.

 

Even with his glasses on, Watanuki's eyes watered.

 

"The light of the faithful. The one who wielded this sword had a strong faith that didn't waver in the face of the world's cruelty, temptations, or human tragedy. Rare that." Yuuko's eyes were distant; she was looking at a faraway image only she could see.

 

Watanuki glanced at the man to see his reaction. If anything the sword's light just made him look paler, casting his face in shadows and his grey eyes into dark pools. Watanuki shivered. He hoped this latest guest was going to leave soon.

 

Yuuko pushed the sword back into its sheath and the room returned to its warm candle-lit state.....

 

.................

 

Gerald Tarrant watched the light die. Yes, his lover had never faltered in his faith. Which was the reason Gerald had to seek the Witch's assistance in the first place. Damned fool of an ex-priest.

 

"I accept this but it isn't enough for payment."

 

He looked at the woman. With her long black hair and black eyes, curious that since he'd never seen anyone with truly black eyes before, and embroidered silk robes she looked more like a succubus come to life than a skilled sorceress. But he could feel her power, it echoed around this dwelling like distant drum beats. Strong and steady.

 

"I have nothing else to offer."

 

"Hmmm... yes, you do have a habit of continually using or discarding whatever's precious to you in the name of survival." The woman's head tilted slightly as she considered him. He disliked her manners but was not fool enough to mistake confidence for arrogance.

 

"I'll take your second chance then."

 

It took him a minute to understand what she meant. How much did this woman know about him? And how far could she be trusted?

 

"Don't look like that, Neocount. Feigning ignorance doesn't become you." She laughed, her laughter rang clear like crystal in the room. The boy sitting on the floor, doubtless her servant, was looking worriedly between the two of them.

 

"How much of it will you take?" The words forced their way out of his throat. Damn you, I'll make you pay for this, thought Gerald. Oh yes, once he caught his idiotic lover he was going to make sure the man knew what a pain in the ass he'd been. If only he'd listened to Gerald, this conversation would never have taken place.

 

"Not much." The woman seemed to be smiling gently, "Just enough to balance out the scales. You'll be like when you first chose to sacrifice your humanity. As much as you value this person you seek, you love yourself more. There's nothing wrong with that of course, we are all selfish were we to admit it out loud."

 

A vampire. Wonderful. Gerald thought his lover had better not have any objections to feeding him.

 

"Agreed." The words tasted bitter on his tongue and once again he silently cursed the one who had brought him to this state.

 

The woman turned to her servant. "Take this to the storeroom."

 

The boy obediently took the sword and left them alone in the room.

 

She touched her finger to a wide basin placed on the floor in front of her. Its liquid surface rippled and white smoke rose into the air, though Gerald couldn't detect any heat.

 

"Take this and wear it."

 

A silver ring with a black stone set in it appeared in the air before him.

 

He didn't touch it.

 

"Why?"

 

"Because I doubt you can speak the language of the place I'm sending you to. Watanuki only understood you because he has an affinity for spirits and the spiritual realm."

 

"Why this... kindness?" He found himself genuinely curious about her motives.

 

She leaned back on her divan and stared at the ceiling. Velvet curtains trailed from above in rich colours and small, heavily embroidered pillows in jewel-like colours were scattered everywhere on the floor. The room was a testament to her hedonism.

 

"No matter how little an interaction there is in one life, it leads to consequences that will surface in the next.. even though your faith may not believe in the concept of past lives. A person's destiny cannot be interrupted halfway. It's something that's continuous throughout. No matter how small the accident, no matter how short the time, even if one has no memory of it, it leaves its mark upon the fabric of the universe. When fate has made a connection, it cannot simply disappear." She turned her black eyes on him. "You and that person are linked. Your fates were linked from your very first meeting. I'd like to see where those entwined threads lead."

 

"You're doing this because it amuses you?" He could understand it, even if he didn't like it. Whim was a concept he was familiar with, especially among those who lived very long lives.

 

She threw back her head and laughed again. "Well, yes! One has to have hobbies, otherwise immortality would be too boring. Or you could just call me an incurable romantic."

 

He said nothing.

 

The white plumes of smoke rose higher and reached with their white fingers toward him.

 

"Are you ready?" She asked.

 

A tense nod. The black stone gleamed from its new resting place on his finger.

 

Those fingers wrapped around his body and extended upwards. As his vision of the Witch's shop was fading, he heard her last remark.

 

"I think you're going to like this world, Gerald Tarrant."

 

Her laughter echoed like ripples in the pool of Time and Space.................

 

................ the smoke faded and Gerald found himself standing in an alley. He could smell garbage and human waste and he stepped out of the alley, only to be nearly hit by a steel cage.

 

He blinked. What in God's name..? No, not steel cages. More like steel carriages with people inside them but no horses or any animal to draw them. Buildings rose high all around him, built from a strange smooth grey... stone? He stepped back into the shadows and observed the world he found himself in. The people were dressed differenly of course, but there was a lot of steel and smoke too. Very little dirt or trees. Very odd. And there were coloured lights that told those steel carriages when to stop and move.

 

It was a very big town, no city was more likely. Gerald wondered how he was going to find that person here.

 

Hmmm.. perhaps if the past was any indication...

 

He was glad the Witch had not taken any more than she needed of his humanity. But vampirism wasn't an entirely bad state of being. The enhanced senses, speed, and strength would help in exploring his new surroundings, especially if his suspicions about this world were correct. He leapt to the top of the nearest building and began to search for a church...............

 

......................................... The small church on 66th street was decorated for Christmas. Nothing fancy. Small festive garlands, holly, and lights. It was a small church and in a poor neighborhood too but he was happy enough to be its caretaker and offer whatever spiritual guidance was needed to its subjects.

 

As he was extinguishing the candles that had lit the church during mass, he heard the church's door creak open. He turned but saw no one. A frown wrinkled the young priest's forehead and he walked down the aisle, past the pews, to close the door.

 

He closed and locked the church's doors. When he turned, there was a man standing in front of the altar. The two remaining candles on either side of the altar flickered to and fro, which was strange since there was no breeze inside the church.

 

_How did he..._ A touch of fear entered the priest's heart. He slowly and cautiously approached the man. He could see now that the man wore some kind of.. robe? Beneath it was a dark blue.. tunic? And leather boots? Was the man some kind of actor?

 

"Um.. you're a little late if you're here for mass." He tried to sound calm but wasn't succeeding much.

 

The man chuckled. "I see now where she sent me. That Witch is rather wicked."

 

Witch? Oh God, he really hoped this man wasn't one of those devil worshippers-cum-goths-cum weirdoes who thought spilling blood and trashing a church was fun.

 

"Sir, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

 

"Are you _afraid_ of me?" Amusement rang clear from his voice. "This would be the first time."

 

When the man finally turned and faced him, he simply took his breath away.

 

_Oh..._ He was having a hard time thinking right now. Tall frame, grey eyes, light brown hair framing an almost angelic visage; the man was beautiful and he knew it. The priest tried to squash the inappropriate feelings that stirred within him.

 

"Hmm... I must say that I've never imagined you with red hair." A cold hand fingered the red locks near his ear.

 

The young priest slapped the stranger's hand away. "Don't touch me," he said irritably. Though his irritation was more towards himself for the longing this man stirred in him. God, wasn't it bad enough that he had those.. _thoughts_ about men but he had to react this way to a man he'd just met.

 

The stranger's eyes narrowed and there was a calculated light in them.

 

"You don't remember." It was a statement, not a question.

 

He took a step back. "What exactly is it I should remember?"

 

"No matter. It can be easily remedied." The tone was smooth, and cold, as silk.

 

Before he could open his mouth and ask what the man meant, there was a sudden displacement of air and he felt sharp teeth sinking into his neck and something forcing its way into his mind.

 

_Oh my God..._

 

Images cascaded across his mind's eye, each more vivid than the next. Worse was the despair he felt because he knew, **knew** , that they were hauntingly familiar.

 

_A man gazing at him from across the floor of a bar...._

_..... the same man standing in his Order's full robes...._

_......... blue flames transforming a giant white bird into a man......_

_............. the same man rescuing him from a watery grave...._

_..................himself saving that man from death due to excess pride...._

_.....................again and again it continued as they saved each other's lives more than once.... even when they disliked one another enough to kill....._

 

One image, one memory was different. And when it came, it shook him to the very core of his being.

 

_....Moonlight on a pale skin. A smile, so rare, upon that beloved face. His own arms holding that man close, closer than any two people should be....._

 

..... He blinked and was surprised to find tears in his eyes. He was lying on his back, on the floor of his church. The side of his neck hurt but that was nothing compared to how _raw_ his soul felt as a lost piece was returned to it. Something hummed in his mind, a link to the person now crouching over him. Like a predator who'd finally caught an elusive prey.

 

He swallowed and looked up into the man's face. His voice was hoarse,

 

"Gerald?"

 

There was a smile as the man, no longer a stranger, answered,

 

"Damien."

 

~ End ~


End file.
